


Never Let You Go

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning After, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold wakes to John's arms around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Let You Go

"Mmm. John." Harold wakes to John's arms around him, delightful soft heat all along his back, John's legs tucked up against his.

 

John squeezes him a little tighter. He sounds shy, unsure of himself. "Is this okay?"

 

_Are you kidding?_ Harold wants to pinch some sense into him. It's astounding, sometimes, how John doesn't know how much he's worth. Instead he whispers "It's wonderful."

 

John's sigh of relief tickles the back of Harold's neck. "I figured you'd go all private person on me, the morning after."

 

Harold accepts that, given what he knows about him, this might be a reasonable assumption for John to make. "If I were going to retreat, I would have done so the moment you kissed me." He assures him, petting John's hand where it curves down over his stomach. "And by now I should recognise a good thing when I have it."

 

"Me too." John responds instantly, easily. Such emotional openness is somewhat startling, from Reese, but perhaps when they're like this the usual rules don't apply. The kiss he presses into Harold's hair is so tender. "I never want to let you go."

 

Harold blinks sleepily and swallows. This man's devotion...there's no quantifying it. "I will have to use the bathroom eventually." He quips. "But not for at least another half hour."

 

John laughs and his hips shift a bit, the curve of his body stretching and resettling. He's half-hard against Harold's backside, not in any way insisting, just there. Harold reaches back to trail the tips of his fingers leisurely along the side of John's left thigh. John shivers and his cock swells. Harold pretends to ignore it, abandoning John's leg and poking instead at John's right hand, trapped between Harold's hip and the mattress, where it must have been for some hours now. "Don't you have a dead arm?"

 

"Oh, yeah." He almost sounds as though he hadn't noticed it. Harold lifts his weight as best he can, enough to allow John to slide his hand out. His spine protests at the movement, and a slight groan works its way up his throat before he can stifle it. "You okay?" John's asking, immediately, and Harold hurries to reassure him.

 

"Fine, fine. A little stiff. I hadn't used...certain muscles in quite a while before last night."

 

John hums at him. "I bet."

 

Harold really regrets moving. He was perfectly, exquisitely comfortable before, and now there's a maelstrom of aches and pains heading right for him. Maybe if he lies very, very still, they'll forget and leave him alone. He knows from experience that the very last thing he wants to do is tense up in fear of them, so he clings to John's left arm and waits for the worst to subside. Behind him he assumes his partner is coaxing some feeling back into his numb right hand, and is grateful when John doesn't ask him again whether he's alright.

 

After a time, he feels ready to move again and asks "Let me turn over?"

 

John kisses Harold's nape briefly, then gives him room, retracting his arm, scooting up the bed and lying on his back. Harold follows him, carefully testing his body's limits. He feels a lot better, settling himself on top of John, who welcomes him with open arms and a smile which crinkles beautifully the skin around his eyes. "Hello."

 

Because of the way John is slightly propped up against the pillows, and because of the difference in their heights, Harold finds there's a nipple in easy reach of his mouth. He kisses the lower ridge of John's pectoral muscle, then pushes his tongue out to lick at and around the sensitive bud. John's gentle smile gives way to a surprised 'oh', and his hands clutch at Harold's shoulders.

 

He hadn't done this last night, when he'd wanted to. John really is in frighteningly good shape, and Harold hadn't thought it the best idea to draw attention to his own flabby chest in comparison. But this morning he finds he just doesn't care. He wants to _taste_ John, all over, and try to repay some of that devotion which shines out of John's every word and deed.

 

He licks and sucks until John's quaking under him, until his cock regains all of the hardness it had lost when Harold's pain flared up. And this time Harold can reach him properly. He slides a hand between them so he can cup them both together. John moans at the first touch and kisses Harold's forehead, palms gliding down his back. He rocks up into Harold's fist, too fast and too good until Harold pins him _down_ , other forearm across John's stomach. "Slowly," he admonishes, but John only gasps out a strangled "Finch" and the next thing Harold knows is kissing, open-mouthed and fierce. He'd planned for thorough and gentle but John seems to crave quick and desperate, so he gives it to him, gives John what he wants. He comes with John's name on his lips, John's seed mixing with his on their skin.


End file.
